


Three Kinds of Art

by ctrl_plus_c



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Late at Night, Married Couple, Married Life, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28113312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ctrl_plus_c/pseuds/ctrl_plus_c
Summary: Deidara doubts. He doubts Sasori and Itachi's love for him, years after their private wedding.But seeing Sasori passed out on his work bench, drool slipping down his chin as he got hit with the karma of not sleeping for a few nights, he believes in it again.
Relationships: Deidara/Sasori/Uchiha Itachi





	Three Kinds of Art

**Author's Note:**

> Trans Itachi and non-binary Sasori rights

Art is a bang.

Deidara knows this. While explosions aren't generally accepted among society, it's still his favorite form of art, or at least it's his favorite way to express his art. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and in his eyes, art was something that was there for a moment and gone forever.

For a while he believed that applied to relationships as well. That they were great in the beginning, had something amazing happen, and then trickled down into some mushy pile of what once was. He never thought love could be eternal, that he could feel something passed a crush on another human being. Casual flings were his specialty in high school, but that didn't mean he was proud of it.

Which is why he's still surprised when Itachi enters the bedroom, dressed in a tank top and underwear that accentuated her curves more than needed. Itachi kisses his cheek as she climbs into bed and immediately inquires about Sasori's current location. 

Deidara finds that he's way too distracted by the silver band around Itachi's ring finger, reflecting a sliver of light and still shining after so many years, to think about where Sasori was. They were most likely in their workshop, trying to finish up a project one of their buyers wanted to be done by Friday.

"Sasori's a serious workaholic. You know where they are, hm." Deidara replied in kind, dragging his eyes away from the ring. There's a lamp on the nightstand with the head dyed yellow with age illuminating the bedroom and the book Itachi picked up to read.

She is art. There's no doubt that Itachi is beautiful in every way, that her coal eyes shine like diamonds and her soft hair feels like a cotton shirt. Her nose is small and narrow, her eyebrows thin and her lashes long. Her skin was a great medium for all of this; pale and smooth like snow. Itachi picks up her reading glasses, letting them sit on her nose to help her read.

Deidara leaves without kissing her forehead like he normally does, the feeling of being unworthy settling into his bones. There's no way that a pitiful business owner like him deserved a girl with great negotiating skills that had a dream of becoming a great musician (one she never worked towards, sadly). His partners were so much more successful than he could ever dream of being, his skin tingling and his mind drifting to the words _dead weight_.

He got up to find Sasori, he remembered. He didn't get up to lament about how worthless he was when compared to his partners, he didn't get up to doubt himself. He was living his dream, and he knew he was lucky to be accompanied by two wonderful people as he did so.

The door to the basement opens with a slight creak, and as he ventures down the stairs, the tiny platforms groan and wheeze as he steps on them. Sasori's workshop is a graveyard of doll parts, unsettling to its core. Deidara flips on the lights and receives an irritated groan from the redhead passed out at his desk. Weaving his way through puppet pieces he finds Sasori with drool slipping down their chin and a doll's arm held between their own. 

They let out a soft snore, followed by a huff of hot air as Deidara begins to shake them. He almost wants to let Sasori sleep, but they'd wake up with a serious cramp in the neck if they slept like this. They wake up with a groan, the wooden chair beneath them whining as Sasori sat up. He looked around, confused for a moment, before locking eyes with Deidara.

"...Brat." Was the first word they uttered, their hand reaching up to the back of their neck and rubbing it gently, the muscle already cramped up. Sasori blinked a bit, almond eyes drifting down to the arm in their hands. They set it aside with a sigh, the wood knocking against the table as it was set down. "Haven't I told you to keep out of my space?"

"Yeah, hm. But Itachi wants us to be together tonight." Deidara shrugged, shoving his hands into his sweatpants pockets. He definitely didn't dislike the times they were all together, but he still understood Sasori's work and that they couldn't be with each other all the time. He knew it didn't bother Sasori any to join them, so one night couldn't hurt. 

Sasori sighed but knew there was no point in arguing with Itachi even if the woman wasn't there. The chair beneath them let out a relieved sigh as they sat up and dusted off their pants. Sasori was short; barely five feet tall and wearing a shirt that ended at his mid-thigh, just around where his apron cut off. They'd obviously intended to stay up all night, judging by the half-empty cup of coffee still sitting on their workstation.

They follow behind Deidara as he goes upstairs, the stairs beneath them creaking once more. Sasori is far from a person who enjoys affection, but when Deidara reaches out and laces their fingers together, they don't pull away, too tired to make the effort. They force down a smile; as much as they acted as if Deidara meant nothing, the boy still made Sasori's heart race like when they were in college together.

Deidara brings his partner to the bedroom, Itachi patiently waiting with a book in her hands and reading glasses perched on her nose. She smiles, a gentle tug at the corners of her lips, and sets the book back on the nightstand. Sasori doesn't seem delighted to see her, but they still leave Deidara's side to receive a peck on the cheek from Itachi and climb into bed beside her. Deidara comes around on the other side of the bed, completing the person sandwich with Itachi in the middle.

None of them were people who enjoyed affection. Their bodies were stained, memories of being used in the wrong ways still playing at the edge of their conscious. But when they're together, the warmth of the comforter and the warmth of their bodies lulling Sasori to sleep in an instant. It took a bit longer for the other two; Itachi commonly plagues by nightmares of a troubled past and Deidara simply not as tired.

Laying beside his partners, Deidara's doubt and worry faded away. There was nothing wrong, and he would never be abandoned again.


End file.
